Afterimage
by Lachriel
Summary: Ch 1: Mirror - Bella finds she's not the only one who's been left behind. Ch 2: Through a Glass Darkly - The consequences of your actions are not always what you might expect. Ch 3: Refracted Light - Things aren't the same once they've been broken, even after repair. But that doesn't mean there can't be light again.
1. Mirror

Standard Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. I do not own Twilight. I don't make money from fanfic-ing.

* * *

She isn't quite sure where she is. (Not that it matters.) Her father has taken her somewhere, hoping that the trip will take her mind off of things. (As if the gaping, bleeding wound of his _absence_ will be healed by a change of venue.)

She stumbles and is momentarily aware of her surroundings again. She sees, unexpectedly, a man who's face is a mirror of her own grief. (Hollow cheeks, dead eyes, haunted, why am I even still living.)

Their eyes meet and his spark in recognition. He sees what she sees.

Lost. They both are.

"Who was he?" he asks, his voice dry and whispery as if he hasn't spoken in a long time.

"Edward." Bella considers saying more, telling this man about Edward or about how he had left her and done his level best to erase any proof that he had ever existed until she wasn't sure if she was sane anymore, had ever been. And then she doesn't. "You?"

"Sherlock." And John doesn't say any more either.

* * *

Author's Note: I'm surprised that this fic happened. Sherlock and Twilight aren't worlds I see mixing well in general. However, there's a lot of post-Reichenbach (which is probably spelled wrong) fics with John being strong and/or angry. But I think that really, he'd be in a lot the same condition as Bella was when Edward left.

This is a lot more drabble-y than I usually write, but there it is. I've definitely got a second chapter for this (its already written) and possibly a third in the works, but I don't see it going much beyond that.

Anyway, please review. I love reviews.

...

Love them.


	2. Through a Glass Darkly

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Twilight. I just play with them every now and again.

* * *

Edward knew that he had hurt Bella when he left. It had been for her own good and he had honestly expected her to heal from her broken heart. Even if he hadn't. Couldn't. Never would have.

He didn't know what to expect when he came back. Crying, grief, anger. Edward knew he deserved it all.

He didn't expect Bella to forgive him. He didn't expect her to cling to him and beg him to still be there when she woke up.

And nothing could have prepared him for the nightmares.

* * *

Sherlock knew that John would react badly when he learned that he had faked his death. He expected some shouting. And maybe some punches thrown. Sherlock had already proved that he could provoke John to violence, and suspected that his sudden resurrection would be a repetition of that occasion – John striking out only when pushed far beyond his limits and then feeling very badly about it afterward.

Sherlock didn't expect to come home to a John who was thin and pale. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all in the past three years. He was using his cane again.

John stared at Sherlock, unmoving, unblinking. Sherlock waited, waiting for John to work through his shock and start in on the shouting.

Sherlock didn't expect John to step silently forward and poke him a few times as if checking he was actually there. He didn't expect John to wrap his arms around his neck and pull him into a hug and not let go. He didn't expect John to start shaking and it took a few moments to realize that John was crying.

It wasn't the reaction Sherlock had expected. He supposed it was probably going to be less painful overall than John hitting him. He supposed he should be grateful for that.

But when John had fallen asleep, tears run out, exhausted, and still refusing to let go, Sherlock realized that he would have preferred being hit.

Seeing John like this hurt much, much worse.

* * *

Author's Note: Thus ends the second part of this fic - the perspective of those who left. There may be a third part eventually. If so, it is likely to be far, far less melancholy.

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Which means that I don't have to feast on the souls of the innocent.


	3. Refracted Light

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or Sherlock. (Though I believe that the original Sherlock Holmes series are now in the public domain... )

* * *

John was waiting in a Paris airport in the middle of the night – waiting for the luggage carousel to produce his and Sherlock's suitcases. Because expecting Sherlock to do something so incredibly _mundane_ and _dull_ was just asking for trouble. Granted losing him in a crowded airport, the alternative, was also asking for trouble. John just hoped it would be slightly _less_ trouble than a _bored_ Sherlock in a crowded airport.

He noticed a pair of pretty, dark-haired girls nearby, giggling happily over the engagement ring one of them wore. And the other... the other girl looked very familiar. It took John a few minutes to place where he'd seen her before.

"Hello," he said, edging up to the pair of girls. "You're looking better than the last time I saw you."

The girl looked at him curiously for a moment before a look of recognition crossed her face. "So are you," she said with a smile.

"Your Edward came back then?" Because John knew, grief that deep didn't just leave you. And the girl was free of the grief he had seen marked in every inch of her face at their last meeting.

She grinned and held up her hand, displaying a wedding band. John was surprised. She barely looked eighteen. But she seemed happy enough.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. And your... Sherlock, was it?"

"Yeah." John shook his head with fond exasperation, still amazed with the way things had played out. "Three _years_ the bastard let me go on thinking he was dead. For my own protection, apparently."

The girl shook her head in understanding. The other girl nudged her in the arm. "Oh! We never properly introduced ourselves, did we?"

"I think we were both a bit preoccupied last time. John Watson." He held out his hand to shake hers.

"Bella Cullen." She seemed particularly pleased with the 'Cullen' part. "And this is Renesme."

"I go by Nessie, mostly," the other girl said, dipping a shallow curtsey instead of shaking hands.

John sort of nodded a bow back. "I would too." Bella was glaring at him slightly, but John decided to ignore it, as she didn't really seem upset so much as resigned. "You're getting married too?"

Renesme and Bella looked surprised for a moment before they realized that John must have seen the ring.

"Yes. It's why we're traveling, actually." Renesme answered with a blinding smile. "Auntie Alice may not really _approve_ of Jacob, but she insists that if I'm going to be married, I'm going to at least be properly outfitted for it."

"And of course that means shopping in Paris," Bella added, rolling her eyes. "Just don't let her pack for you for your honeymoon. I ended up with nothing but lingerie until the rest of the luggage caught up with us three days into the trip."

John could feel his ears burning, and Renesme turned bright red. "Did not need to know that," she said, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"Are you two sisters, then?" John asked, more to change the topic than out of any interest. Though there was a strong resemblance between the two girls.

Bella looked shocked, but Renesme laughed and slung an arm around the other girl. "We might as well be! We certainly look it."

Probably close cousins or something, John decided.

At that moment, the carousel started up, sliding suitcases and bags out to be turned around and around until their owners could catch them on their way past. John found his own bag easily enough. Sherlock's larger, heavier suitcase circled the carousel a few more times before John could catch it and finagle it off the conveyer belt.

John turned to see if the girls needed any help, but the last of their matching luggage was being retrieved by an auburn haired young man. Bella slipped her hand into his and looked up at him as if he were the whole world.

Must be Bella's Edward, John decided with a fond thought toward 'his' Sherlock. Wherever he might be at the moment. John knew he ought to go track him down now that he'd gotten the luggage. Try to head off the trouble Sherlock had undoubtedly found.

"John!" Or, John thought, he could just wait where he was until Sherlock got bored with the people in the airport and came to see what was taking him so long. "John, we need to leave now. I've seen –" Sherlock cut off sharply, glaring at Bella's group. And Edward, who seemed to be wincing whenever his eyes passed near Sherlock.

After a quick, whispered conversation, Bella and Renesme stepped back toward John and Sherlock. Sherlock, in an uncharacteristic gesture, grabbed onto John's hand. And not so uncharacteristically glared at the two girls.

"We've got to get going," Bella said with a small smile. "It was nice to see you again though."

"Likewise," John said. "And nice to meet you too," he added, nodding to Renesme. "Congratulations on your engagement."

Sherlock, tense though he was, was staring at Renesme as if she were absolutely fascinating. "What are you?" he asked. "You're different to the other ones."

Bella started at Sherlock's words.

"Don't be rude, Sherlock," John said with a sigh. And not much hope that the oft-repeated statement would actually sink in this time either.

Renesme just smiled. "A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing, Sherlock. It was nice to meet you, John." Then she looped her arm through Bella's where the other girl stood staring intently at Sherlock, and pulled her back toward Edward. Edward who was also staring at Sherlock and rubbing at his head as if he were working up to a migraine. The three of them gathered up their luggage and made their way to the exit.

John thought, with no little amusement, that most people had to actually _talk_ to Sherlock before he gave them headaches. The detective was improving his talents considerably if he could manage it over a distance now.

"John! Those are very dangerous people," Sherlock began, his tone somewhere between scolding and excited. "You must tell me how you met them, and everything you know or deduce or suspect about them. I need every detail!"

John smiled and shook his head, gathering up the luggage that Sherlock was steadfastly ignoring. Some things just never changed. And he didn't much want them to.

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Author's Note: The longest and final chapter in this little fic. So it can end on a slightly happier note. And because I think Sherlock would give Edward and his nosy mind-reader-ness a headache.

I hope you enjoyed the story, despite the angst. (Or because of. Whichever.) Whether you did or didn't, if you read, please take the time to leave me a review as well. Thanks. ^_^


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